Rowan
by PTBvisiongrrl
Summary: A new character shows up at the Hyperion, looking for Angel, and claiming to be his many times over granddaughter. Just what does she really want?
1. Default Chapter

1 Rowan  
  
Disclaimer- The only character I own here is Rowan herself; the rest I borrow.  
  
Summary- This takes place before Cordelia becomes part demon and before Connor is born.  
  
The hotel lobby was empty when Rowan pushed open the heavy glass doors. The lobby was sparsely furnished, chairs and tables of good quality but having seen better days, just like the rest of the Hyperion. This is where they run a business? she asked herself, walking over to the desk and *pinging* the bell.  
  
A dark haired, thin man, twitchy and, she discovered once he spoke, English. "May I help you?"  
  
Rowan held her breath for a moment. She had never really thought how to ask for a vampire with no last name; she only knew him as Angel or Angelus, and it seemed terrible personal to ask for him like that when he didn't even know her. But asking to speak to the vampire with a soul would probably raise even more eyebrows. "I would like to see…" Mr. Angel? she quickly discarded, "..Angel."  
  
Brit pushed his glasses up nervously. "And may I have your name?" he clipped in his soft accent.  
  
Rowan blinked at him like an owl. Her name? Would giving her last name disturb him? Did he even remember his human name anymore? "Rowan McKinney Gallagher."  
  
Brit-boy flipped awkwardly through a date book behind the desk. "Did you call ahead for an appointment? I don't seem to have your name or number back here anywhere…"  
  
Rowan bit her lip. She hadn't thought that she'd need an appointment to see a crusader for the Powers that Be; his usual clients were hardly the kind to call ahead. But then again, she probably didn't look quite like his normal clients. She still had her business suit on from the conference today, the laser pointer from her paper presentation in the right hand pocket. Her hair was neatly piled in a bun-like arrangement on the top of her head, and her heels were just a little too tall for comfort after eight hours on her feet. She certainly wasn't running away from a big bad, fearful for her life, or covered in some nasty demon bodily fluid. "I didn't know I needed an appointment. I've just got away from my conference, and thought I might be able to meet with him for a few minutes." She held out her business card- her official business card, from the university- for the man to take.  
  
He took it and squinted at it. "You are a professor of folklore at University of Pennsylvania?" He seemed to reassess his attitude toward her. "You came awfully far for a conference. Can I ask what you specialty is?"  
  
Rowan shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other. "Occult history and demonology, unofficially. Celtic mythology, officially."  
  
The corner of the Brit's mouth turned up. "Really? And what brings you to see Angel?"  
  
Rowan took the upper hand, tired of being stalled. "I wanted to talk to the only souled vampire known to exist about something of great importance to him."  
  
The man barely blinked. "Well, I guess I'll see if he's available yet this evening. The sun has barely set yet." He turned, her card in his hand, and took deliberate, retreating steps into the office door directly behind the front desk. The door shut behind him with a swish.  
  
Well, Rowan thought, that ought to get everyone's attention. She hadn't known exactly what she would say when she got here- she really had only gotten up the nerve to come here a day or two before her conference started- but had thought that the Goddess would step in if she made too much a mess of things. The dreams had hounded her until the decision to see Angel was firm in her mind; they were simply too important to allow her usual sense of shyness to get in the way.  
  
Rowan strolled around the lobby while she waited and found a place to sit on a nice, overstuffed armchair. There was an equally over-stuffed ottoman beneath it, and she took off her shoes to take advantage of its plushness. She had hardly settled into it when the lobby door opened and two young brunettes strode in, chattering away.  
  
"And these shoes! I got them at 75% off. Even though they are a little tight, I just couldn't pass up such a bargain…" The taller girl- Rowan couldn't think of another way to describe her, she was probably within a year or two of Rowan's own age- stopped when she spied Rowan. "Hi! Can I help you with something?" The question ended with a slightly forced smile, as if she did not want to show open mistrust of the stranger.  
  
Rowan smiled back. "A British gentleman has already helped me, but thank you. He went to see if Angel would be able to see me."  
  
The short one seemed to fade into the woodwork at the mention of Angel's name, but the taller one crossed her arms in front of her chest and stood a little taller. "And what did you want to see him about? You're not a lawyer, are you?"  
  
Rowan frowned slightly at the immediate sense of anger radiating off of the girl, "No, I'm not a lawyer. Though I can understand your dislike of them."  
  
"And what would you know about me?" the girl spat out with fire flashing in her eyes.  
  
Rowan struggled to sit up. "Other than you can be a little rude, nothing,."  
  
Rowan opened her mouth to continue, but the office door slid open and a British voice called, "He'll be right out…" just as the tall girl clutched her head in pain before tumbling to the ground. A tall, dark man ran down the staircase, catching the girl just before her head had a hard contact with the marble floor. The British man hurried to join the group crouched on the floor beside the tall brunette, some sort of pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. The scene was oddly quiet, with everyone speaking in hushed voices.  
  
Curiosity won out over Rowan's normal hesitance. She made her way to kneel beside the girl as well, chanting a calming spell in her head. Holding her hands over the girl's head, and slowly moving them down her whole body, a green-gold glow began to build up. Before she could continue and actually lay hands on the girl, though, she felt a hard crack against her skull and fell into darkness.  
  
Rowan felt sore and her head ached. She didn't remember exactly what happened before she passed out, but remembered the state of the girl she had tried to help. Opening her eyes and trying to turn over, she mumbled a question about the state of the girl's recovery. She received no answer, but her eyes focused on the tall, dark man seated across from her, who was holding a heavy battle-axe casually in one hand.  
  
He didn't wait to make sure she was fully conscious before speaking. "Who the hell are you?"  
  
Rowan frowned slightly. Why the attitude? She had been trying to help, after all. And she had already told that stupid British man her name…  
  
She didn't answer him quickly enough, evidently, because he rose and approached her, towering over her with the axe still in hand. "Forget who you are. I don't really care. What did you do to Cordelia?"  
  
Rowan slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, as the last seconds before she lost consciousness came back to her. Rowan was suddenly very uncomfortable where she was, and tried to rise.  
  
The man caught her arm and forced her to sit back down. Probably good, she thought, as she tried to make the room stop spinning. "I was trying to reduce the pain she was obviously feeling."  
  
His eyes narrowed a little. "Why?"  
  
Rowan felt her final nerve snap. This really had been a ridiculous idea. "Because that's what good witches do? Why the hell did you clock me one?"  
  
The man returned to his seat across from. "I don't know who you are, but you know who- and what- I am. How do I know that you were really helping her?"  
  
"I don't really care what you believe right now. I just want to get out of here." Rowan fumbled on the floor with her feet, looking for her heels- which were gone. "I think I made a mistake coming here in the first place. Trying to help just compounded it."  
  
"Just why did you come here in the first place?"  
  
Rowan took a really deep breath. She wasn't sure what she should tell this man, or if she should just concoct some wild story and get out. But she had come so far, she figured on last attempt to get to Angel couldn't hurt. "I'll only explain what brought me here to Angel himself."  
  
The man nodded at her. "You're looking at him." 


	2. family reunion

1 Rowan- Chapter Two  
  
Rowan's heart beat a little faster at Angel's words. He was not at all what she expected he would be. Her great-grandmother's diary held many descriptions of him, but they were from another time and another place. This Angel had short hair sticking up in odd tufts here and there, and deep brown eyes dark with anger. He was muscular and strongly built, not "skin and bones" as Gran had put it. And long gone were the less-than-fashionable flapper era duds.  
  
Rowan again felt that this was not the good idea it originally seemed to be. Clearing her throat, she managed to say something as her mind feverishly compared what she knew of Angel to the man sitting before her. "You don't look like I expected."  
  
Angel gave a low-volume snort. "And what did you expect?"  
  
Rowan shifted nervously. Taking a deep breath, she decided it was time to explain her self-appointed mission. "Let me introduce myself. I am Rowan McKinney Gallagher."  
  
The vampire didn't have any response to the name. After 240 some years, did it even mean anything to him anymore? Or was it just that it was so common? "I am a professor of Celtic mythology at Penn, and I came to LA for a conference."  
  
Angel shifted in his chair slightly, coming warily alive. "I realize that I am part of mythology, but I didn't think it was the kind studied at ivy leagues."  
  
"Meeting you actually doesn't have anything to do with my position…." Rowan was really at a loss; she didn't know how to explain her interest. "Um, let me start again."  
  
There was a light knock on the door, and the British man entered. "Angel, I think Gunn and I can handle the.." he searched for a word, with a pointed glance at Rowan," …situation ourselves. We'll leave you to talk with Professor Gallagher?"  
  
Angel nodded. "Thanks. I'll keep an eye on Cordy."  
  
Wes pushed his glasses back. "She's lying down right now. Probably be out for a while." Turning, he shut the door behind him quietly. A moment later, there was the sound of a bigger door slamming shut.  
  
Angel turned his attention back to Rowan. "Well?"  
  
Rowan smoothed her hair back and played with a small silver claddaugh ring on her right hand. It had been in her family almost as long as the secret she was going to reveal to the vampire.  
  
"Do you ever think about your family? From before you were turned?" Rowan tried to ask in a respectful manner, but she could see that Angel was uncomfortable with the question. She gave him time to consider an answer.  
  
He chose not to; he just glared at her with those dark eyes. It was quite disconcerting.  
  
She looked down at the ring again before continuing. "The reason I am here as to do with your family. Your human family."  
  
Angel looked less angry but still uncomfortable. "What about them? It's been some time since I saw them, you know."  
  
"I know your history- all of it. Darla, Angelus. The whole scourge of Europe thing." Rowan tried to play off the hundred years of evil, but those entries in the diary had chilled her.  
  
"And you obviously know that I've got my soul again." Angel rose and starting pacing in front of her sofa.  
  
"Yes," Rowan nodded. "As well as how."  
  
"And what is it you want with me?" Angel stopped in mid-pace to glare at her again before continuing.  
  
"Well, there's a part of your family history you don't know about."  
  
"And you know about it how?"  
  
Rowan looked him squarely in the face. McKinney genes had bred true in her; could he see it? Granted, her eyes held a bit more green than his, and her hair had abundant auburn streaks from the sun his never saw- but wasn't there enough in her face to clue him in?  
  
Angel looked straight back at her, never blinking. And then she realized. Silly witch! He hasn't seen his reflection in how long? And mirrors weren't the best back in his day; he may never have actually gotten a good look at his own face. Rising from her seated position, Rowan stepped in front of his pacing. "Nice to meet you, many-times-over Grand- da." 


	3. a history lesson

1 Chapter Three  
  
2 A History Lesson  
  
Disclaimer- The only character I own here is Rowan herself; the rest I borrow. And forgive me if I have Angel's human last name wrong, but I didn't remember if it had ever been given…  
  
Summary- This takes place before Cordelia becomes part demon and before Connor is born.  
  
Angel stopped mid-pace and blinked at Rowan, his eyes gone wide in shock. Grabbing her arms a little roughly, he gasped "What?"  
  
Rowan suffered the too-tight grip for a moment before moving away. He was a very strong vampire, and she rubbed her arms where his hands had held her. She couldn't blame him for his reaction; he has lived for over two centuries believing that he had killed anyone with a blood relation to him. And why should he believe anything she said? As he had said earlier, he didn't know who she was, really. "I know you thought that you killed your whole family, but you didn't. You just didn't know about Sorcha."  
  
Angel blinked like an owl, his eyes wide, glazed saucers of disbelief. Running his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture, he asked for some explanation of her pronouncement. "Sorcha?"  
  
Rowan almost smiled. Over two hundred years old, and she had managed to strike him dumb. Or if not exactly dumb, almost monosyllabic. The scary, ax wielding warrior she had woken up to now looked much more-- human. "Yes, Sorcha. Your daughter."  
  
Angel looked for a chair to sit down on. Rowan followed him, settling in the chair next to him. She waited until he spoke before she continued.  
  
"How?" was all that he could say.  
  
Rowan ran through the story in her head again; she had committed it to memory, but in her nervousness she took care not to mess it up. "Finola Gallagher."  
  
Angel looked lost in thought for a few minutes. Rowan let him think; he was dredging up memories long suppressed and very painful. When he shook his head, obviously drawing a blank, she tried to prompt him. "She was an innkeeper's daughter, with long blonde hair and green eyes. About sixteen when she…uh, made your acquaintance."  
  
He shook his head again, almost embarrassed.  
  
"She worked in her father's tavern. That's how you met." Rowan watched his face for any sign of a reaction or recognition. She wasn't sure what she had expected from him with her news. Rowan hadn't really thought that he would immediately know just whom it was that he had knocked up, but had expected that he would at least remember the girl with some prodding. But, again-- nothing.  
  
Angel looked slightly abashed. "If you know my history, you know what I was like. There were a lot of women."  
  
Rowan considered how to continue. Bluntness would probably be the easiest way; it was hard to imagine offending a vampire's sensibilities. "From what I gather, although you were more than willing to sleep with her, you were less than eager to marry her."  
  
Recognition suddenly flared up in Angel's vacant expression. "She gave me an ultimatum. I refused. I stopped going to the inn and never saw her again."  
  
Rowan nodded and continued the story. At last, some idea of whom her ancestress was. "Finola was pregnant at the time. She didn't tell you when it became obvious you weren't going to marry her. She'd rather bear the stigma of a bastard than live in a loveless marriage. Quite enlightened for the time, I always thought."  
  
"Unusual doesn't begin to describe it. She could have forced me to marry her with the child as proof. She must have went through hell." Angel looked at Rowan with interest now. "Why wouldn't she force me?"  
  
Rowan cleared her throat. "Finola had something of the second sight. When you refused to marry her, she finally Saw you for what you were- and what you would become. Although she wasn't sure when it would happen, she Knew you would be turned. She also Knew that you wouldn't listen to her about this vision. So she went to an aunt's village to have the baby, whom she named Sorcha, and left her with the aunt to raise. Then she returned to her father's inn."  
  
"I don't understand." Angel put his head in his hands. "If she kept the child, why didn't she approach me or my family for help? We were well enough off that a bastard or two could be cared for."  
  
Rowan shook her head. "Finola was gifted with pretty decent second sight. She Saw what you would do to your family. She thought it better to raise the child as a bastard than to put it at risk of 'death by Angelus'."  
  
Angel's brow furrowed in thought. Anger had begun to build in his chest; Rowan could tell form the emotions playing warring across his face. "If she knew what would happen to me, and at one time felt enough for me that she wanted to marry me, why didn't she tell me what was going to happen? Or try to prevent it? She could have changed my whole life!"  
  
Rowan took a deep breath and held it a minute. How much to tell him? It was over two hundred years ago- but all new to him. "She did try, Angel. Finola wanted to explain to you what was going to happen to you- but the second sight is a powerful thing. She also Saw what would become of you once you had your soul back again."  
  
Angel let out an angry breath. "So she decided that I was better off as a vampire, and a warrior for the powers, than a dead Irishman. She didn't even try to warn me!"  
  
Rowan understood some of his anger. His undead life had not been easy for him; he was probably often overwhelmed by the sheer hopelessness of ever making up for all the havoc and hell he had caused. A well-placed warning, and Angel thought he would never have gone into that alley with Darla- and never have become a vampire. But the anger was misplaced. Loving him or not, Finola had served the higher powers in her own way, just as he did now. "Finola thought for a long time about warning you. But trying to change the Sighted visions never works, and she understood that. She couldn't change you; she had already tried once and failed. If you were fated to become a vampire, than you would become a vampire." Rowan paused. " But she thought that she could change the circumstances your turning happened under."  
  
Angel seemed slightly placated but Rowan's comment. Rowan herself was angry that Angel could find fault with her ancestress at all; but he didn't know the whole story yet.  
  
"Finola thought that a different Sire might have kept you from becoming quite so…evil. So she kept an eye on you as much as possible, and looked for Darla to keep you two from meeting. But she found you both too late."  
  
Angel tensed. "Too late?"  
  
"Darla had already turned you, and was waiting for you to rise. Finola was easy to catch- she was no warrior and had no stealth."  
  
Angel closed his eyes. Rowan saw that he had already figured out what had happened to the poor love-struck girl, but still needed to confirm it. "What did Darla do to her?"  
  
Rowan frowned at Angel's stony countenance. He knew what vampires did- but he still had trouble reconciling what he had done in his life with the warrior for the Light that he now had become. "Not Darla."  
  
"I ate her?"  
  
"Your first meal." Rowan  
  
In the silence, Rowan rose and strode across the room. "Finola, simple girl that she was, tried to do what she thought was best for her child and for the rest of the world. She just didn't know how much Power that she was mucking around in. She never stood a chance against the Powers' plans for you. But she still tried because she had loved you."  
  
Angel would have blushed, had he been able to. He was angry at a dead girl, who had loved him and bore him a child, and he hadn't even remembered who she had been. He was still a lout at times. "I'm sorry."  
  
"For what?" Rowan shrugged and tucked an escaped strand of hair behind her ear. "You followed your nature. If you hadn't been what you were as a human, you wouldn't be what you are today. It's a whole package; you can't cut and paste together an ideal you and still be you. There's more to the story, anyway."  
  
Rowan played with the claddaugh ring on her finger again as she struggled to explain the rest. This is the part that concerned her. "Knowing that what she did was risky- hunting a vampiress and soon-to-be vampire, she left a journal for her child. She wanted Sorcha to know that had happened to her, if she didn't make it."  
  
"When Sorcha was old enough to read it, the aunt gave it to her. Finola's aunt was a witch- one of the reasons she chose to leave the child with her. The aunt was wise, and had raised the child with knowledge of the darkness in the world. The child not only had the second sight, but was a powerful witch as well. Knowing the story of her father, she wanted to keep an eye on you. Once say you could be told of her existence; she just wasn't sure when. And she wanted you to know of the sacrifices her mother had made."  
  
Angel looked slightly puzzled, so Rowan filled in a little more detail. "The Power runs in the family blood. Sorcha wanted to make sure that you became the warrior you were meant to. So she kept an Eye on you, so to speak, and asked her children to do the same. One of each generation has kept an eye on you, magically speaking, since then. The events of your life- unlife- were watched and recorded." She turned to face him and held out her hands. "I am the latest." 


	4. It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

1 Chapter Four-  
  
2 It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time  
  
Disclaimer- The only character I own here is Rowan herself; the rest I borrow.  
  
Summary- This takes place before Cordelia becomes part demon and before Connor is born. Please read and review! Feedback is greatly appreciated….  
  
Angel sat back, contemplating what Rowan had just revealed to him. Rowan herself felt drained. The knowledge she had just shared with him was…well, it was her life. She had been raised with the story of the vampire with a soul, and her duty to watch him in his struggle for redemption. She had grown up knowing about him, and spent hours 'checking up' on him. He'd never seen her before today. A bit of shock was completely understandable. She waited for some kind of reaction on the vampire's unreadable face, but he seemed lost in his thoughts.  
  
Rowan let the silence go on for what seemed liked forever, until she couldn't take it any longer. Any interruption was better than more of this silence. "Not to interrupt your thoughts, Angel- but we've been talking awhile, and I was waiting for a bit before you showed up. Is there a ladies' room I can use?"  
  
Angel took a minute to respond. "Um, yeah. Cross the lobby, first door on the left." He didn't rise, and Rowan let herself out after a quick look turned up her shoes.  
  
Complete lack of a reaction was not a good thing, Rowan thought to herself as she clicked across the marble floor, toes pinched every inch of the way by Italian leather. But then again, just what kind of reaction did she expect? She's just told him that someone else- on the side of good- had sacrificed herself and several generations of her family to make sure that he became a warrior for the Light.  
  
She snorted at her own stupidity. As if Angel didn't already carry around massive amounts of guilt- some of it much more recent from his soulless state in Sunnydale. And she goes and throws more fuel on the fire! Pushing open the heavy door, Rowan headed straight for the mirror to see just how bedraggled she looked from the tackle-and-pass-out session earlier.  
  
Not too bad, considering, she thought. Smoothing back her long, auburn tinged locks, she carefully rubbed at the beginnings of raccoon eyes. Looking closer at the face, she examined it for similarities to Angel. After having met him, she was that the family resemblance was not as pronounced as her grandmother had sworn it was.  
  
"Ah, Gram. I finally met out elusive kinsman," she whispered to herself. Her grandmother had caught one small, real-life glimpse of Angel in her capacity as generation watcher; Seemings and scrying images were close to the actual person, but not always completely accurate. Now that she herself had seen him, Rowan would be able to conjure a much clearer image of Angel in her own watching.  
  
If he would still allow it, now that he knew. Rowan considered that now, something she hadn't thought through before her visit. What if he wanted nothing to do with her or her mission? Angel could simply ask her to stop, or use magical means to stop her; it was possible to do so. Would he? Rowan had also informed him, no matter how good the intentions behind it were, that he had been actively spied on for the past two hundred years. Yeah, she acknowledged. I guess that would creep me out, too.  
  
Entering the stall, Rowan continued her train of thought. Yep, imagine someone magically watching right now. It gave her an odd feeling on the nape of her neck, to think that someone could watch her through walls, She had always known it could be done- she had done it herself- but she had never really thought about it from the observed's point of view. Hurrying to finish and wash her hands, Rowan sped- as quickly as her sore feet would let her- back into the lobby.  
  
As soon as Rowan pushed the door open, Angel was waiting for her. He gave her a measured look before he spoke, crossing his arms and leaning against the smooth wall. "Why did you tell me all this? It seems to me that you- and the family- would be better off if I never knew that you existed."  
  
Rowan inwardly winced. This was not the question she was ready to answer yet. She had not been able to work out in her mind why she so wanted to talk to this unusual vampire; but he haunted her dreams until she had decided that she would go see him. Naturally shy, Rowan was never good when meeting new people, especially important people. Yet she had walked in here as confidently- at least to appearances- as if she were a runway model. Laughing in an unsteady voice, "You sure don't ask the easy ones, do you?"  
  
Angel followed her back to a seating arrangement in the lobby, sitting across from her when she settled into a wing chair. His steady gaze never left her. "I'm curious. Your story is very elaborate, and seems true enough. But why tell me now? It's been two centuries; a decade here or there doesn't really make a difference at that point."  
  
Rowan bit her lip. "There's a lot of different reasons."  
  
Angel shook his head, anger flitting behind the dark eyes briefly. "Give me one."  
  
Dropping her shoes off again, Rowan curled up in the chair. Tugging her skirt down to a respectable length, she settled in to try and think through her answer out loud. Just then, the tall brunette who had fallen to the lobby floor in such pain stumbled down the stairs and took away Angel's attention.  
  
"Cordelia looks pretty bad, Angel. Go look after your Seer- I'm not going anywhere." In her shock at the girl's appearance, Rowan forgot to edit her words. Too familiar, she cursed in her head when Angel gave her a disturbed look as he headed over to Cordelia.  
  
A whispered conversation followed, too low for Rowan to make out, but it involved a lot of looks in her direction, not all of them friendly. Cordelia headed down another hall, presumably to get water to take the pills she picked up from a desk on her way. Angel returned to the seating arrangement, fixed Rowan with an indescribable stare, and sat back down.  
  
"Why are you here?" he declared flatly.  
  
"I can tell Cordelia already doesn't like me." Rowan tried to joke, but it died on her tongue given the look on Angel's handsome face. He really was more attractive than she thought he would be. Giving herself a mental shake, she returned to his question. "I honestly don't know. The chance to visit the area came up with this conference at work, and I just got the idea into my head. I didn't really think it out any further than that."  
  
Angel's lips thinned at her answer. "Not good enough. You just blew a two- hundred-year-old secret. I can't think that as a witch you don't think through everything that you do very carefully before you do it. You control power that requires a clear, logical mind if you don't want it to eat you alive."  
  
Rowan leaned her head back and looked blankly up at the ceiling. Dark spots periodically appeared across the white expanse; stains from a leaking roof, she guessed. Her eyes felt very heavy as she inspected the fancy molding encircling the ceiling. This place was old, and while the public areas seemed in good repair, she wondered about the rest of the building.  
  
She must have spaced out for a few seconds, because the next thing she knew, Angel's hand was on her arm shaking her back to the world. His hand was cool, surprisingly not uncomfortable so. Snapping her head back to face him, she gave him a tiny, apologetic smile. "Sorry. I flew in this morning and was at the conference all day, and I guess this was more taxing than I thought it would be. I just nodded off."  
  
Angel sighed, a deep, low sigh that twisted out of his chest like a frustrated animal. "I still want answers. But I can see how tired you are. Why don't you go pick a room, and we'll get back to this in the morning."  
  
Rowan sighed herself. "I'm sorry. I'm just really tired. But all my luggage is still at the conference hotel. I have a room booked there."  
  
Angel shook his head. "No. I want you here. I don't want you to pull a disappearing act on me until I get more information."  
  
Rowan stiffened, her heart speeding up and her face lightly flushing. "Are you holding me hostage?"  
  
Angel nodded. "Basically. There's a phone over there to call the hotel. Ask them to deliver your bags here."  
  
Rowan thought briefly about trying to leave. Using magic, she could probably get away. But she didn't think that Angel wanted to harm her, or he already would have. She still needed to talk to him more, as well. And she was very tired. Mumbling to herself about vampires and less than good manners, she made the phone call quickly. Turning back to Angel, ready to tell him that he at least owed her dinner, she was surprised by the sound of the lobby doors crashing open. The British man, with a black man close behind, stumbled in looking a bit worse for wear.  
  
Angel immediately looked them over. Finding them still intact despite some minor damage, he asked "Did you get it?"  
  
The British man hadn't seen her yet, and spoke with honestly. "Between the two of us, we managed to seriously wound the Fester demon- but we didn't kill it. The wound should have killed it, too- so there must be something or someone else working with it that extended it additional protection-" Just then, spying Rowan, he cut himself off, his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish.  
  
Rowan almost grinned at his discomfort, then remembered that while she knew these people, they didn't know her. It was just such a Wesley face! "Don't worry, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. I know that there are things that go bump in the night other than vampires."  
  
Angel gave his agreement. "She's aware. And she's on her way to find a room right now, so we can talk in your office." Angel gave her a curt nod, and motioned the two men to follow him. Directing a low comment to her after the men had passed, "I expect that I can trust you for now. Good night."  
  
Rowan agreed. "I'll go find a room." She headed up the stairs, trying to find an open door. The first open door that looked likely- the bed had linens on it and there wasn't a layer of dust all over everything- turned out to be occupied by someone. Looking at the stylish dark male clothing hung neatly in the closet and the lack of mirrors, she surmised that this was probably Angel's own room. She couldn't help but peek around a bit, her curiosity getting the better of her.  
  
Aside from some small photos, most of them of people whom she could identify from her Watching, there were some sketches hung up on a wall and some toiletries in the adjoining bathroom. The only other items that hinted of an occupant were a collection of leather bound books on a small shelf. All the titles were "classic" texts she had read- but not necessarily enjoyed- as part of her college education. It amazed her that someone could live for centuries and not accumulate more stuff, thinking ruefully on her own somewhat messy apartment back in Philadelphia. There were items stuffed in every available nook and cranny back at her place.  
  
Chuckling in wonderment, curiosity sated, Rowan continued on down the hall until she found another inhabitable room. Hanging her suit jacket on the room's only chair, she settled down on the bed to rest until her luggage arrived. As she lay, her wind running a replay of the day, her last thought 


	5. Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Disclaimer- The only character I own here is Rowan herself; the rest I borrow.  
  
1 Summary- This takes place before Cordelia becomes part demon and before Connor is born.  
  
2 Please read and review- I need the attention…..  
  
3 Chapter Five  
  
Actions Speak Louder Than Words  
  
Rowan sluggishly felt her mind surfacing from sleep, a gentle knocking on her door the cause of her disturbance. Rolling over to the edge of the bed, she yawned widely as she put a stocking foot on the floor.  
  
"Stockings?" her mind asked as it furiously tried to compute why she was still dressed in her suit. Rubbing her eyes, Rowan came to full consciousness as the door cracked open and Angel popped his head into the room.  
  
Right, the visit with the vampire that ended up a sleep-over. "Yes?" she demanded, cranky at being woken.  
  
Angel opened the door wider and dumped her suitcase by the door. "Luggage is here." He was gone almost as quickly as he had intruded, the door pulled shut behind him.  
  
Rowan padded over to the bag, and hauled it onto the bed to unpack. At least she could put on something more comfortable to sleep in. Rummaging around, she pulled out a fuzzy, oversized gray sweatshirt with "University of Pennsylvania" scrawled across the front in peeling letters and a pair of equally fuzzy and worn sweats. It felt good to get out of the monkey suit she had won all day.  
  
Pushing the bag off the bed and onto the floor, Rowan curled up once more under the covers and tried to go back to sleep.  
  
Sleep, however, eluded her. Wired as she had been about meeting Angel, the short nap she had enjoyed before the arrival of her bags had refreshed her enough that she couldn't get back to sleep; she was doomed to wakefulness. Well, if she was going to be up, she was going to make the best of the time. Rooting in her bags again, Rowan pulled out some toiletries and a pair of comfortable jeans. Entering the bathroom attached to her room, she ran a hot shower and stepped in.  
  
The water felt good on tense muscles, and she lathered her hair thickly. She stood in the shower until the water ran clear and she very much resembled a cooked lobster. Dried off and dressed, she returned to the outer room and took out a journal. It was her own Watcher's journal; splaying herself, stomach down, on the bed, she started to record the events of the day.  
  
Concentrating closely on her writing, Rowan still could not help but be distracted by the buzz of voices downstairs in the lobby. She could make out, if she strained her ears, Angel's deep voice and Wesley slightly higher, more melodic one. The trouble with the demon earlier tonight must have been more difficult to solve than Wesley had though it would be. Glancing at the clock- 2 AM- Rowan closed the book and decided to see if she could be of any help. Wesley had suspected some kind of magical aid, if she had understood his comments earlier, and magic was certainly her specialty. One way to show her good faith was by helping out, right?  
  
Rising from the bed and quietly easing the door open, Rowan was shocked when it hit something large but soft and then stuck in place. The door was barely open a inch when a small, wiry frame filled it. The other brunette from this afternoon, her voice shaky but with an unmistakable Texas twang, stood firm. "Sorry, but Angel said not to let you leave the room. You got to stay here."  
  
Where did Fred come from? She hadn't been there earlier, Rowan was fairly sure. She hadn't heard a peep from the long hallway before her attempt to 'escape.' Rowan mentally smacked the damn vampire and cursed herself; has she really seemed like that much of a threat earlier with her magical display? She should have realized how suspicious Angel had to be. "I'm not leaving the hotel, Fred. I just want to go downstairs and see if I can help."  
  
Fred vehemently shook her head, brown frizzy hair sticking a little further out than before. "No, ma'am. Angel said stay right here."  
  
Rowan sighed inwardly. She couldn't exactly help save the world if this willowy woman corked her up in her room for the night. And she didn't feel like being confined for the next few hours if she couldn't sleep through them. "How about BOTH of us go down and ask him if I can leave my room?"  
  
Again, a firm shake of a brown fuzzy head answered her. "No."  
  
"Okay, Fred. Then I'll wait here while you go get Angel. I want to talk to him." Rowan left the door open but made her way to the bed and sat down.  
  
Fred hesitated a few minutes, but when it became clear to her that Rowan was staying put while she herself went to find Angel, Fred took off quickly down the lobby stairs. Angel was back in less time than Rowan thought it should have taken.  
  
"We're a little busy now, Rowan," Angel intoned impatiently from the doorway.  
  
"Yeah, I know. Fester demon didn't die the way it was supposed to. Some kind of Magic involved, wouldn't you say?" Rowan responded from her perch on the edge of her bed.  
  
Angel frowned, his hand still grasping the doorknob tightly. "Yes, that's what Wesley thought. We have it under control now."  
  
Rowan, lack of sleep and her wired nerves getting the better of her- again today- snapped at him. "Yeah, that's why you're all still up at 2 AM arguing over missing demon codexes." Rowan smiled coyly at him. "You may not realize that you have a pretty competent witch who can't get back to sleep and is sitting here with nothing to do, and not a single true magician down there with you guys. Don't be a moron, let me help."  
  
Angel shook his head negatively. AI members seemed to be doing that to her a lot tonight. "Thanks, but no thanks."  
  
Rowan closed her eyes and took as deep centering breath. If he wouldn't take her skill at her word, she would just have to convince him. She carefully asked, as nonchalantly as possible, "Was the demon wearing any kind of jewelry?"  
  
Angel narrowed his eyes. His voice was severe as he spoke. "I meant it. We don't need your help. I still don't know whether or not to trust you." He turned away and started for the stairs. "I'll talk to you in the morning."  
  
Rowan shrugged at his retreating back. "Yeah, well, if the stone in that amulet was an amethyst, I can tell you exactly where he is right now."  
  
Angel paused without turning back to face Rowan. "And how can you do that?"  
  
"Scrying at a distance is my specialty, and amethyst is my primary focus stone. I've got a huge one in my bag there, and with an idea of what that amulet looked like, this stone will find that one." Rowan made a show of yawning, stretching her arms out wide. "But you know what? I am kinda beat. See you in the morning." She lay back for barely a second before the silence was broken.  
  
Angel was back at her door, not quite in the room but at least looking at her again. "I didn't know that was possible, to track an object though a like object if you've never seen the other one yourself." He was back in the door again.  
  
Rowan grinned broadly. As uncertain of herself as she may be in others' presence, especially this familiar stranger, she knew magic. "Not everyone can do it. But I've sufficient power and gift." She paused a second. "Do you have any Dr. Pepper down there? I always need a fix after a spell."  
  
Angel pushed the door open further. Although he certainly wasn't smiling at her- or even looking vaguely friendly right now- he did look somewhat relieved. Things must be worse than Rowan thought. "You get the stone, Gunn will go for soda. We're in the conference room, second door to the left of the office we were in today." He paused one moment as she slid off the bed to kneel in front of her bag and reach in for the stone. Then he was gone. He moved so silently that she didn't even hear a whisper of movement.  
  
Well, Rowan thought, at least I am making a better impression on him now than when I was falling asleep while he was talking to me in the lobby. Hefting the polished amethyst in her hand, she rose and slipped out the door after him. She found her way to the conference room without a problem. As she stuck her head in nervously, all talking ceased and everyone turned to face her.  
  
"Hi, everyone," she shyly stated as she headed for an empty chair. She received no response until Angel formally introduced her to the rest as a doctor from Penn- no mention of the story she had told him or the relationship she had laid out for him earlier.  
  
Cordelia spoke up first. "I guess this is why you tried to lay the funny golden glowing hands on me earlier?"  
  
Rowan frowned at Angel before answering. "Yeah, I thought I could help then, too."  
  
Cordelia looked her up and down, then gave Angel a meaningful glare. "Well, hopefully you can help now." She handed a piece of paper to Rowan, with a rather good sketch of a nasty looking demon wearing an odd amulet.  
  
"This is the Fester we are looking for?" Rowan asked as she settled the stone in front of her and looking to Wesley for confirmation.  
  
"Yes," he said quickly. "Although I wasn't able to get very close, I did get a rather clear view of the amulet. The outer edges of it had some kind of engraved script that I couldn't translate."  
  
"Was it gold or silver?" Rowan inquired.  
  
Wesley was puzzled a moment, then comprehension flooded his face as he got her meaning. "The amulet setting around the stone was silver."  
  
Rowan nodded as she made herself more comfortable, sliding off her shoes and sitting cross-legged on the chair. She closed her eyes and mentally centered herself in order to begin casting the spell. "That makes it easier. Gold can be cursed, or a spell worked into it, but only pure silver can be used as a focus to actually cast a spell at a distance. Whoever or whatever aided the demon only cast the spell as soon as he/she/it realized the demon was in danger. So, I should be able to find the demon and trace the spell energy from the amulet to the caster. Then you'll know who this demon is working with, at least."  
  
The room died into silence when Rowan stopped talking. She opened her eyes again after a few moments of unbroken silence, ready to work. Angel watched her carefully; the others looked away when they saw the purple lightning flashing in her eyes as she called upon her magic. The amethyst in front of her began to emit a faint glow, and she stared deeply into it for a few minutes. The room became very still, as the onlookers waited for her to speak.  
  
Rowan memorized what she could of the stone's view, but it seemed very odd to her. She was not from LA and had not seen much of the town today; she wasn't sure exactly where the spell was showing her. "Well, I'm confused," she admitted when she looked up again. "It seemed to show me an office tower, but there was something not quite right about the scene. The edges of the picture were very fuzzy, as if there was a layer beneath it that I couldn't quite see. Almost a glamour, of sorts. But I saw the name on the side of the building very clearly. Both the caster and demon are in that building."  
  
Cordelia pursed her lips and began clearing things up. "Let me guess. The building said Wolfram and Hart."  
  
Gunn entered the room with a case of Dr. Pepper. Angel quickly popped a can open and handed it to Rowan. "How did you know?" Rowan spoke around the bubbly liquid in her mouth.  
  
"Wild guess." Cordelia looked at Angel. "So what do we do now?"  
  
  
  
Angel shrugged. "I guess we try and figure out what those damn lawyers wanted at that factory."  
  
Rowan suddenly understood Cordelia's question to her in the lobby now, about whether or not she was a lawyer. "I take it that these are not good lawyers?"  
  
Again, Cordelia was the one who spoke, her head cocked at an angle and her tone tart. "Do you actually know any good lawyers?"  
  
Rowan shrugged as she continued to chug the soft drink. When the can was empty, she reached for another. "So I guess you've dealt with these lawyers before?"  
  
Angel grimaced. "You could say that. Just how good are you at magic?"  
  
Rowan pursed her lips. "Pretty damn good. What else do you need done?"  
  
Cordelia emphatically shook her head. "Oh, no, Angel. I know where you're thinking of going, and magic in there isn't a good idea."  
  
Wesley agreed. "You shouldn't go in there at all. Who are you going to get information from?"  
  
Angel sat back and crossed his arms in front of him. "Lilah will talk to me; what she says isn't as important as what she doesn't say. I'll be in and out. Besides, they don't actively want me dead anymore. They'll just throw me out if they catch me."  
  
Rowan looked from Cordelia's frown to Wesley staring down at his glasses as he cleaned them to Gunn pulling on his jacket. "If you want my help, you're going to have to explain to me what the hell you're talking about."  
  
Angel, ignoring the others, looked at and spoke directly to her. "How much do you know about my time in LA?"  
  
Rowan swallowed. "Some, but not a lot. I've been to Sunnydale, so it's easier to See what was going on there. And you haven't seemed too, um- Angelus-like in the past few years, so I didn't Look as frequently as I maybe should have." She squirmed a little at the others' puzzled looks.  
  
Angel looked a little relieved at her answer. Yeah, well, she had already decided that she wouldn't have been happy with a Seer watching her every move, either. "Wolfram and Hart are, literally, evil lawyers. They have tired to kill me and turn me evil, and have finally decided that I am not important enough to bother with. But I've run into them frequently, on the wrong side of certain...situations."  
  
Understanding was beginning to dawn on Rowan. "So, they are big time into the Other World. And they don't like you. And you want to go see them but-" she nodded towards Cordelia, Wesley, and Gunn- "they don't want you to go see Wolfram and Hart because it's dangerous. That means that they must have wards up against you."  
  
Angel didn't exactly smile with his eyes, but they weren't so…hard anymore. "Yes. They have vampire alarms. I have very limited time before they can find where I am in the building. I could use some more time, if I want to find the demon, too."  
  
Rowan slurped down the last of her second soda, and covered her mouth over a loud belch. "Sorry," she murmured, her mind racing at the possible ways that she could help Angel out.  
  
Angel let her think a few minutes, during which the rest of AI traded any number of different kinds of looks at her and at each other about her. "can you come up with something?"  
  
Rowan nodded. "I think I can. I need to look at Grandma's grimoire upstairs, and see what supplies you have first." She rose and started for the stairs, so intent on her mission that she didn't hear the voices raised in the conference room as soon as she left.  
  
Angel had asked for her help. Despite a rocky start, this was going better than she thought it would after all. 


	6. Revelations

1 Chapter Six  
  
1.1 Revelations  
  
Disclaimer: As usual- I own nothing, just borrow the characters to play with.  
  
Sorry this has taken so long, but real life keeps intruding on my play- world. Please read and review!!! Feed back keeps me focused on continuing….  
  
  
  
Rowan raced up the stairs to her room, dropping to her knees beside her bags in haste to roughly rifle through the neatly folded clothes until she felt the well-worn spine of her grandmother's grimoire. It felt smooth and old and comforting. "I hope there's something in here to help us out, Gran!" Rowan muttered as she hastily flipped through, looking for the spell she half-remembered reading somewhere near the middle of the volume.  
  
There. It was dated not long before Rowan's mother's death. It was the last "great" spell her grandmother had written, from what Rowan could gather. After her mother's death, Gran had taken in and raised Rowan; dealing with a magically inclined three year old didn't leave mush time- or energy- to play around with Great Magiks. She wondered if her Gran had constructed the spell with a use in mind like Rowan now considered. Probably not.  
  
Running down the page, Rowan saw she needed quite a few items to complete the spell. Hopefully Wesley had the supplies she needed somewhere around here; running out to get them would delay them by a day, because the spell needed to be cast at moon-set. She was so eager to be of help to Angel, she had momentarily forgotten the others. Making her way back down to the lobby, Rowan's mind slowed enough to consider what would be waiting for her back in the conference room.  
  
What had Angel told the Fang Gang? And what did the Fang Gang think of her? Maybe Angel hadn't explained at all- he wasn't exactly a big talker, especially when his mind was occupied with fighting evil nasties. And she and Angel had not finished their conversation yet, either. He still didn't have the whole story. Maybe he would wait until he did before he spread it around?  
  
Whatever his choice, Rowan's steps had taken her to the conference room door and she paused, her hand on the knob. With a deep breath and feeling slightly shaky, Rowan pushed the door open and stepped in.  
  
Rowan felt the change in the room dynamics as soon as she crossed the threshold. Slowing her steps and looking up, she cast her eyes around to each AI member in turn. None looked particularly happy or friendly. She paused in her path to the chair, licking her lips nervously, and looked to Angel.  
  
The members of AI also looked to Angel, who cleared his throat as he sat back and crossed his arms. "I filled them in. I don't think we believe you yet."  
  
Rowan nodded. "We," not "they." Angel himself was still unconvinced. She sat gently in her chair, looking at Angel thoughtfully for a minute before speaking. Angel had been skeptical of her story; but enough detail about his life could probably convince him. AI, however, was another story entirely. "Did you tell them the whole story, or the short version?"  
  
"He told us the short version, witch-girl. Explain the rest." Cordelia spoke in an even voice, her body casually splayed across the chair, but her eyes were alive with fire and hatred.  
  
Rowan closed the grimoire and deeply sighed. "Angel is my many times over grandfather; he fathered a bastard child on a Seer and witch, Sorcha Gallagher. Sorcha Saw what was to pass, and took measures to protect her child. Then she pursued Liam, who killed her as Angelus. The rest of her line has Watched Angel since, to keep track of him and to protect the family. I am the latest," Rowan lowered her eyes, unsure of the group's reaction.  
  
Gunn immediately challenged her, sending her defenses up. "Why go after Angelus? Why not just run like hell and never look back?"  
  
Rowan narrowed her eyes. "Uh, 1700s, unmarried mother, loved the father. Also a Seer, soon-to-be Vampire with a soul and warrior for the PTB? She thought it prudent to hang around."  
  
Cordelia perked up at Rowan's tone and put in her own two cents worth. "Was it really necessary for the family to keep watching once he was vamped? Or did someone just like the blood and guts show?"  
  
Rowan settled back in the chair for a grilling. Picking up her soda, she gulped some more down before replying. "Do you like the blood inside your head with a vision?"  
  
"I don't have much choice. You people peeping-tommed of your own free will," Cordelia finished somewhat smugly.  
  
Rowan bared a tight, toothy smile. "Would you get rid of your visions if you could?"  
  
"In a hot minute!" Cordelia spit out, then paused. "I think," she added belatedly.  
  
Rowan shook her head. "No, you wouldn't. They're your gift to help the good fight. You've always helped, by choice, in your own way- even if you don't like to admit it. This mission was my family's, and now it's mine- alone." Rowan barely looked in Angel's direction as she softly uttered, "I am the last one left."  
  
Rowan heard Angel's intake of unneeded breath. She had not yet told him why she exposed the two-hundred year plus secret of his family's existence; that brief, last sentence lay potently in the air between them.  
  
Wesley, mangling a paper clip in his slim fingers, looked perturbed. "Your family has watched Angel since his turning? How?"  
  
Rowan smiled wanly. "We're witches. We've done it, for the most part, magically. When the Gift runs weak in a generation, the chosen member simply followed him and tried not to get eaten- or found out by your Watchers."  
  
Wesley pursed his lips like a fish. "And what do you know about Watchers?"  
  
Rowan tried to weigh her words, but she felt so strongly that she was sure it would sound bad no matter how she phrased it. "Don't take this the wrong way- and I don't apply this to all the Watchers, just the majority- but I know that they can't tell their ass from a hole in the ground. Those few truly gifted watchers are never utilized properly." Rowan took a sip of the Dr. Pepper still on the table. "My father was a Watcher."  
  
Cordelia looked thoughtfully at Rowan, taking in everything that passed Rowan's lips. There was more to this girl, Rowan realized, than a pretty faced messenger girl for the Powers That Be. "And why are you the last?"  
  
Swallowing, Rowan closed her eyes. She hadn't said this out loud to any one but her Gran's grave. "This is the twenty-first century. Most of my relatives who still believe our history will be dead before me; the rest think I'm crazy. And there won't be anyone after me." Opening her eyes, Rowan looked Angel dead on. "I was diagnosed with cancer last year and received radiation as well as chemotherapy. The doctors are certain that I will never become pregnant."  
  
Silence filled the room. Rowan could almost hear Cordelia's mental rebuke to herself.  
  
There was a flicker in Angel's eyes that quickly disappeared. He held hers a moment longer before looking away. "And that's why you came to me."  
  
"Yes." Rowan bit her lip. "If I am the last, I thought that you should know you have other family out there, even if they don't know who you are." 


	7. Family Skeletons Worse Than The Scourge ...

Disclaimer- The only character I own here is Rowan herself; the rest I borrow.  
  
Summary- This takes place before Cordelia becomes part demon and before Connor is born.  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
Family Skeletons Worse Than the Scourge of Europe  
  
The air hung heavy with Rowan's revelations, and the Fang Gang all suddenly seemed to find something interesting to look at other than Angel or Rowan. Fred twirled her long hair around a finger; Wesley nervously cleaned and then re-cleaned his glasses. Gunn toyed with a belt knife, testing the edge with his finger. Even Cordelia, shifting in her seat, examined her perfectly manicured nails very closely.  
  
The ill will Rowan could almost touch a moment ago had completely dissipated in an aura of simple, uncomfortable tension. After several minutes of silence and a deep breath, Angel was the first to break the mood. "Ah, um, yeah." He ran his hands through his already tousled hair, and shrugged his broad shoulders. "So, did you find the spell you were looking for?"  
  
Rowan marveled at Angel's sincere lack of people skills in that particular moment, but was very grateful for the change in subject. She'd really rather discuss the whole reason for her being here privately without the whole group ganging up on her; she only brought it up because... She cleared her throat and replied, "Yes. I don't have all the ingredients with me, though. I was hoping that Wesley would have the rest."  
  
She turned to Wesley and handed him the grimoire to look at. "Do you?"  
  
Wesley, carefully folding his eyeglass cleaning cloth, pushed his glasses back further up on his nose as he looked the list over. His lips moved as he read it and regretfully shook his head. "I'm a little short the yarrow root, and I know that I don't have any dried mugwort or bloodworm on hand, either. I used the last of it up last week for a spell to keep the Vagalyr-"  
  
Angel interrupted. "Yeah, Wes, here." He hastily scribbled the list of needed ingredients on a slip of paper and handed it to Wesley, his eyes only briefly leaving Rowan's. "See if you can get this stuff- soon. We need to find out what Wolfram and Hart are up to." Breaking eye contact, Angel turned to Gunn. "Gunn, can you go see if you can find out anything about where this demon might be nesting? Talk to some snitches or something."  
  
Gunn mumbled under his breath but headed for the door, "Sure, Kojak. Later." Wesley was close behind him.  
  
Turning to Cordelia and Fred as the men headed out, Angel continued issuing orders to clear the room. "Cordy, could you and Fred go online and see if you can get into the Watchers' database?"  
  
After a brief glance at Rowan- less anger filled, but still measuring- Cordy shrugged. Rising, she smoothed back her hair and straightened her clothing. "Just what should I be looking for? If I can get in at all, that is."  
  
Angel spoke to Cordelia but looked back hard at Rowan. "See if you can find the Angelus journals. Maybe it's time I read those."  
  
Cordelia was already out the door, muttering "Talk about re-runs." Fred was close behind her. Angel closed the door behind the girls and returned to the table, taking the seat to Rowan's right and slouching comfortably back.  
  
"Good story," Angel stated. "If I wasn't two-hundred and some years old, I might get sucked in."  
  
His tone cut Rowan to the quick. "You know, I really didn't want to tell you that way." Rowan hardened her own voice as she glowered at him. "That was really a case of TMI for them."  
  
Angel's face looked briefly puzzled at her words. She saved his confusion with a sigh and a shake of her head. "Too much information."  
  
Rowan squared her shoulders and looked directly into Angel's dark brown eyes. She was a little tired of him alternately running hot and cold. "Angel, you may not trust me, but could you at least not treat me like a sworn enemy? I haven't done anything that caused danger to you guys." Rowan thought she heard a whine creep in to her voice and mentally tried to steady it. "This wasn't easy for me to do, you know; this was probably harder for me to come here and see you than it is for you to accept my 'story.'"  
  
Angel actually rolled his eyes, some emotion invading that cool façade. "Harder for you than me? I don't think so! You just handed me a family of spies who know me better than I know myself. That's beyond disconcerting and… down right creepy." Rowan swore that his voice actually had a tremble in it by the end his speech.  
  
Rowan rose from the seat and stopped in front of him. She put her hand on his shoulder in a gesture intended for comfort. He didn't shake her off, but suddenly stiffened. Biting back a comment, Rowan took her hand back and ran it through her long hair, tangling her fingers in the curly ends. "I can only imagine how it is for you. But please let me finish telling you why I came out here to meet you."  
  
Angel looked away form her pleading eyes as she pulled her chair closer and maneuvered it directly in his line of vision. He shrugged. "You might as well. There's nothing else for us to do until one of them comes back with some more information."  
  
Leaning her elbows on her knees, Rowan took a deep breath. "My mother died when I was still a child. My grandmother raised me until she died four years ago. I really have no other close family, and I am not the kind of person who makes friends easily."  
  
Angel's mouth quirked up a little at the corner. "Now that, you might have inherited from me."  
  
Rowan half-swallowed a chuckle, afraid to offend the nearly humorless vampire. "My life never made making friends easy. If it wasn't some hocus- pocus crap stinking up the house, it was mundane, regular crap. When I was growing up, I knew what I would one day be expected to do- Watch you. And I was less than thrilled about it. It's not like there's a ton of money in it, or a special "Souled Vampire" degree. What was I supposed to do on career day? They don't exactly have a booth for 'Magical Stalkers.'"  
  
Angel suddenly looked lost in deep thought. Clearing her throat and catching Angel's eye, Rowan continued. "The problem was compounded by the fact that I was damn smart. Two years ahead of other kids my age, further ahead in some subjects. I graduated high school when I was only sixteen, and went straight on to a full scholarship in Physics at MIT."  
  
Angel broke in. "But you have a Ph.D. in comparative mythology! That's a long way from Physics!"  
  
Rowan played with her claddaugh ring again. "My life dramatically changed direction in my freshman year. I found out that my mother wasn't exactly dead, and the father that I never had known was a Watcher."  
  
Angel slowly, nerve-wrackingly cracked each knuckle in his right hand, the popping noises filling the silence between them. Rowan waited to continue until Angel finished the other hand and asked the question she knew he would figure out on his own. "Why wasn't your mother exactly dead?"  
  
Rowan bit her lip, hating to hear this part out loud. "Because she was a vampire." 


	8. I Whine When I'm Tired, or The Rest of t...

Disclaimer- The only character I own here is Rowan herself; the rest I borrow.  
  
Summary- This takes place before Cordelia becomes part demon and before Connor is born.  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
I Whine When I'm Tired, or the Rest of the Story Comes Out (Almost)  
  
Angel sighed, deeply and long. "And her being a vampire couldn't possibly be sheer coincidence?"  
  
Rowan pursed her lips. "What do you think?" she asked tiredly.  
  
Leaning back in his seat, Angel tiredly rubbed at his eyes. "Is there a frickin' thing in my life that wasn't either fate or stupidity?"  
  
Rowan pushed the sleeve of her bulky sweatshirt up. "Surprisingly, yes."  
  
"I don't want to know."  
  
"Don't want to know what it was, or how I know this?" Rowan chirped. Sometimes having the Second Sight could be fun.  
  
Angel rose from his chair and starting pacing the small room again. "How did she become a vampire, and where is she now?"  
  
"Well," Rowan began, biting her lower lip. "She got caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time. My grandmother wasn't aware of the circumstances of her death until it was too late. Something along the lines of the cobbler's shoeless children."  
  
"For a family of witches, you certainly seem to have a particular blind spot for your own fates," Angel pondered aloud, pausing between Rowan and the door.  
  
Rowan acknowledged his statement with a nod. "That's true. We don't often know what is going to happen in our own lives. That's one of the reasons why I was so nervous coming here. I couldn't See how it was going to turn out."  
  
Angel's change in posture told Rowan immediately that she had chosen the wrong thing to say. His attention was once again focused on how to prove her story was the truth. "Rather convenient, your mother becoming a vampire. At least I know that I didn't turn her- I haven't made a fledging in over a hundred years."  
  
Again Rowan pursed her lips. "No, you haven't." She debated her next words internally for a moment before deciding what the hell. "But your Sire has."  
  
Angel sat down in the seat next Rowan with a thud. "Isn't this story tangled enough as it is?"  
  
"No, it gets a lot more tangled." Rowan debated giving him the details now or later.  
  
Angel read her mind. "Spit it all out now, kid- even I don't live forever. You have until the gang returns to convince me. And they won't take much longer."  
  
"My father was Merrick, you were never meant to lose you soul with Buffy, and my grandmother died returning your soul to you." Angel's eyes widened and narrowed in shock and disbelief as the words passed her lips. Rowan almost smiled in satisfaction. She was tired, and cranky, and Angel had simply pushed her too far.  
  
Angel folded his arms. "Yeah, well, is there anything else you left out?"  
  
Rowan rose and headed for the door. "No, I think that's it. Since my story is done, I'm headed back to bed. Wake me in the morning." She was halfway across the lobby before Angel realized what happened. He followed her quickly.  
  
Muttering under her breath about ungrateful vampires, Rowan ignored Angel as he caught up with her and continued up the lobby stairs.  
  
"You can't drop a bomb like that and leave! And I told you, you only have until the others get back to convince me. And if you can't convince me, you can't convince them. If they don't believe you, you're outta here."  
  
Rowan, thoroughly tired of the whole mess by now and questioning- again- why she had come out here, shrugged. "Oh, well. Maybe I don't care anymore." She continued down the corridor to her room while Angel stopped dead at her reply.  
  
He quickly caught up with her, catching the door in his hand as she tried to shut it behind her. Rowan eyed him as he forced it open an entered her room. Angel looked directly at her, and his tone changed. Sarcasm and distrust seemingly gone, he pleaded, "Please tell me the rest."  
  
Rowan sat down on the bed and pulled the pillow up into her lap. "You don't believe a word I say, and telling this story isn't easy. I can't prove anything to you by talking."  
  
"Maybe I don't need proof right now. Maybe I just need the rest of the story," Angel spoke in a tight, harsh voice.  
  
Rowan attributed the strain to her mention of Buffy. "Do you REALLY want to know?" She searched his pale face for an indication of sincerity, but all those years of life had given him the ability to mask his deepest emotional reactions.  
  
Angel sat himself at the foot of her bed and nodded. "Yes, I do want to know. We'll forget about proof for a while, and I'll just listen."  
  
Rowan leaned back against the headboard and nodded. "Okay. Darla turned my mother. My grandmother only became aware of my mother's fate after you had killed Darla. My mother knew what happened to her Sire, and she came after my grandmother and me, since we were the closest she would ever get to hurting you. Mother knew that you were too powerful for her to take."  
  
Angel briefly closed his eyes. "But she didn't succeed, if I killed your grandmother."  
  
Rowan was impressed. He had listened to her words, whether or not he had really wanted to hear them. "Right. When she came after us, my grandmother used magic to protect us. Gram couldn't kill her own daughter, though- vampire or not. She imprisoned my mother in our basement, while she tried to find a spell to give her daughter back a soul. Gram was sure that the daughter she remembered would return if her soul was restored. My grandmother worked for months on a spell."  
  
Angel shifted his position, pulling one darkly clad leg under the other. In a low voice Rowan had to strain to hear, Angel asked, "Did she succeed?"  
  
Rowan nodded, her long hair bouncing with the movement. "It took her months, and a tremendous amount of power, but she managed."  
  
"How was your mother once her soul returned?" Angel asked, looking off into the unlit corners of the room.  
  
"You know how it feels, to have your soul back and remember the terror and horror and death that you had caused." Rowan paused, remembering the days she had spent talking to that evil thing inhabiting her mother's body, trying to get her to remember anything good about their life together, but only getting stories about blood and pain and death. Even her Gram's consoling words and memories of her own couldn't clean Rowan's mind of the demon's words.  
  
"My mother was never that strong a person to begin with, from what I could gather from Gram's stories about her. My mother never liked the whole witch legacy we had going, and ran away when she was sixteen to avoid the responsibilities." Rowan neglected to mention that she herself had considered the same plan of action on more than one occasion as a teenager. "The vampire memories broke her. Once her soul returned, my Gram felt it was safe to leave her unchained." Rowan's voice became flat and emotionless. "My mother took an early morning stroll the first change she got."  
  
Angel shook his head. "Not a pleasant way to die. Staking is so much faster."  
  
Rowan watched his face as he looked at a far-off point. "My grandmother felt responsible. It wasn't an easy time for us. What made it worse was you."  
  
Angel frowned. "What do you mean?"  
  
"While Gram's attention was elsewhere, you went evil again." Rowan blew air at her bangs to move them away from her eyes. "Again, she felt that if she had been doing her job, that never would have happened. And she decided to try and fix it."  
  
Angel looked perplexed. "But Willow restored my soul, with a Romany spell."  
  
Rowan licked her lips. "The Powers played a very cruel trick on my grandmother. She and Willow chose the same moment to fix your soullessness. The magics were too different, though- one had to fail." She rubbed her tired eyes. "Romany magic is very powerful, even wielded by someone else."  
  
He rose from the bed, walking to the window and pausing to stare out. "What happened to her?"  
  
"Her heart failed. The competing magics slowed Willow down just enough that it was too late to keep you from calling Alcaltha." Rowan pulled her sweatpants clad legs up to her chest. "I found her. I didn't know what happened until I had read her journal, saw what she had planned. She never told me what she was going to do."  
  
The last statement came out more bitter than Rowan had intended, and Angel picked up on it immediately. "You would have stopped her?"  
  
Rowan pulled a long strand of hair into her mouth, sucking on it in a nervous tick from her childhood. "I don't know. I could at least have helped her with it- maybe saved her."  
  
Angel strode over and sat next to her on the bed. "So, not only am I your only family who knows about the dark side of life, I also killed your last human family member." He turned to look at her. His voice cracked a little as he spoke. "And you came here to meet me why?"  
  
Rowan struggled to calm the inner turmoil this draining storytelling had started. It was a difficult task, the hour was late, and she just couldn't do it. Looking up at Angel with a tear in her eye, she answered him with complete honesty. "I was lonely." 


	9. Weaknesses Exposed

Disclaimer- The only character I own here is Rowan herself; the rest I borrow. Summary- This takes place before Cordelia becomes part demon and before Connor is born.  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
Weaknesses Exposed  
Rowan's voice had trembled slightly, and she found that she couldn't look Angel in the eye after that last, plaintive sounding statement. But- as pathetic as it sounded- everything had begun to fall into place in her mind, as Angel listened to her story without prejudice, just to hear it. Eyes darting around the room to rest on anything and everything but Angel's own, she let the room fall into an embarrassed silence.  
"I mean, my life is just so.odd. I know other magik users, I know other occultists- but they are not quite in the same.how can I even put this? The same league? They flounder around, casting spells for their own personal gain and to try and prove to themselves that magik exists. I KNOW it exists, in ways that these people can't even imagine!" Again, a whine had crept into her voice. "You live in the world, but aren't really a part of it." Angel stated in a low, matter of fact voice, staring at a spot on the wall just above Rowan's head. "You know how it works, but don't see the point. The important things are overlooked in favor of the menial and shallow. In their world, true evil has never and will never exist." Rowan looked up at him through threatening tears. "Until they meet me, and I need to explain about myself. And then, even then, they still don't quite believe. It is easier for them to ignore me than deal with what I truly represent." She swallowed hard, and looked toward the window again. "And I can't be around someone who doesn't accept the dark side that comes naturally with the light side. I have responsibilities that cannot be ignored, and those responsibilities may be dangerous." Angel sat in the silence with her, obviously unsure of how to respond. After all, he was the responsibility of which she spoke. His quiet stretched on, and this time she did not break it. Angel's lack of response made her even more uncomfortable, and she rose up from her spot on the bed to peer out from behind the curtains onto the bright, scattered lights of late night Los Angeles.  
After a few more minutes of quiet skyline contemplation, Angel cleared his throat. He was behind her before she realized it, his hand cool on her shoulder even through the sweatshirt. "I understand," was all he said as she turned away from the window to look at him.  
Rowan forced the sound of her unshed tears out of her voice. "I thought that you might. Hell, I hoped that you might. But that's not the only reason I came here, you know."  
Again, Angel chuckled to himself. "No. You are a complicated woman, apparently. I'm sure there are many reasons you came here. But a big one, I think, was just to be around other people like you." His hand on her shoulder, after a minute's more brief rest, left. "And you certainly found us."  
Rowan sniffled. "Yeah, I did. Which was another reason why I want to help you. I'm tired of just Watching. I want to join the battle."  
Angel looked at her with honesty in his eyes. "The battle is never easy. Are you really that sure?"  
Rowan shrugged and wiped at her runny noise with the cuff of her sleeve. "I think I am. I mean, what's the point of watching and recording when there's no one after me to read it?" She headed back to the bed and sat down, Indian-style.  
Angel followed Rowan and sat beside her. "Well, after a few days with us, you'll know for sure."  
A look of almost-hope crossed Rowan's face. "Does that mean that you will accept my help?"  
A long, contemplative sigh followed. "I need to think more about it. If you know my past, you know why I can't trust just anyone."  
Rowan sighed in response herself. "Yeah, I do know."  
Angel frowned, lines folding into deep creases at the corners of his mouth. "Maybe if you explain a little more. What exactly did you mean, that I was never meant to lose my soul with Buffy?" There was more strain in the timber of his voice now.  
Rowan bit her lip, sliding her tongue over the tender spot she toyed with. "Angel, just promise you won't get irritated with my explanation. I'm too tired to deal with Dark Avenger/Personal Grudge Guy right now."  
A smile briefly twisted across Angel's face. He nodded, his moussed, dark hair shaking slightly with the motion. "I promise that I'll try not to."  
Rowan exhaled completely, closing her eyes and drawing in a fresh breath. She centered herself, almost as if she was beginning a casting. "In the family journals, each generation records what they See as the future for you. Sort of a Cliff Notes version to keep us all on track, I guess. Buffy- well, there's a mention of the Slayer, several Slayers actually, but never one in reference to the type of relationship you chose to pursue with Buffy."  
"What type of relationship do the journals mention?" Angel asked, trying to lean nonchalantly back on the bed, fingers splayed out and palms down, but the general tension in his body giving him away.  
"A partnership, nothing more." Rowan hoped he would not ask for anymore detail. "But other factors changed that affected Buffy's life prior to your meeting, and these changed the relationship in ways that we did not See. At least, that's my theory."  
Angel seemed a little shaken. "Buffy and I were never meant to- uh- be together?"  
Rowan sorrowfully shook her head, knowing that Angel had based a great deal of his life in L.A. on his perception of the Slayer/Souled Vampire relationship. His work here was not just toward his own redemption, as Cordelia and the rest had assumed. In quiet moments, moments that Rowan had stumbled upon Watching and quickly retreated from as best she could, Angel had exposed his feelings about the Slayer and her influence over him. Fighting the Good Fight, even without Buffy, still helped her. Every demon he killed was one less that would end up at the Hellmouth and threaten his soulmate.  
Well, who he thought of as his soulmate.  
"Angel, the fact that you and Buffy weren't preordained doesn't change the meaning you give to your relationship." Rowan trailed off, not sure how to continue.  
He blinked at her, uncertainty clear on his handsome features. "We were never meant to be together?"  
"It's very complicated, Angel." Rowan pulled her long hair up and knotted it back. "And this is not just from the Sight. Some of this I gathered from my father and his journals."  
Angel rose and paced a diagonal path across the carpet, turning back as he reached the bathroom door and reversing a second time when he approached the nightstand. "How could we not be meant for each other?" Rowan ignored Angel's one-track mind, attempting to answer him by explaining further. "My father's name was Merrick. Did Buffy ever mention that name to you?" At Angel's negative reaction, Rowan explained. "My father was Buffy's first Watcher in L.A., long before she ever heard of Sunnydale. He did his best to prepare her for her destiny, but. Well, he didn't really do a good job. Actually, he was really never meant to Watch her. My father was a last minute replacement for Buffy's intended Watcher, who managed to get herself paralyzed in a car accident. He had already guided, and lost, one Slayer when Buffy was called. Watchers are generally never given more than one Slayer. The emotional stress of knowing what will inevitably happen, is just too much to keep them at the top of their game. In essence, my father screwed up her training. If he'd done it right, she would never have ended up in Sunnydale at all." Angel, still pacing, looked distant. Rowan tried to get his attention back on her story. "Are you listening to me?" Angel snapped his head up to look at her. His response was less than friendly. "Yes, I am. What does any of this Watcher crap from your so- called father have to do with Buffy and me?" Rowan mentally bit her tongue. She was close to losing the trust she thought they had begun to build. "Slayers are usually taken from their families and trained while still young, Angel. Did you ever wonder why that didn't happen to Buffy? Why she was still with her family, who had no clue what she was or would become?" Angel movements became erratic as his distress grew. "But it always seemed. I mean, Whistler showed her to me! The Powers sent me there!" "Whoa, Angel, slow up here!" Rowan tried to start over again. "The Powers sent you to help her- They never said or asked anything else. And although They meant for you two to meet, They had never really meant for you two to meet in Sunnydale. But They do have someone in mind for you, I-I-I'm sure!" Rowan stuttered, trying to cover the information she had not meant to divulge. Angel's eyes were dark with pain and moist; the loneliness blazed up in them. "Do you know that? I mean, Know that?" Rowan looked at him, unable to breathe as she contemplated her options. She did not want to affect the future by exposing something before its time, yet the look in Angel's eyes tormented her. "Angel, do you really want to know? I mean, REALLY? If I were to tell you when and with who, and under what circumstances, how can you be sure that you truly felt love for this person, and not some obligation because of your perceived 'fate?'" She swallowed hard, trying to choke air past the lump in her throat. "And how do you know that there is only one person, in your whole, unnaturally long life, that you were meant to be with?" His eyes flashed fire at her. "I know who I was meant to be with, and I know that I will be with her again some day."  
"Your fates divulge, Warrior." The voice came from Rowan's mouth, but was definitely not hers. She felt extremely warm, and dizzy; disorientated in her own mind and body. She could not control what she said or did, but was a passive viewer in the back of her own head. The oddly echoing voice continued. "We allowed you your time with the Slayer because together the two of you changed the future We had planned. The two of you were stronger than We realized. We allowed you that time to do more good than was originally foreseen. Until the line was crossed, and then it was beyond our control." Rowan felt oddly disembodied as the voice continued. "Further, you made a choice of your own- when offered the chance of her love, despite our plans, you rejected her." Angel sputtered in anger at her. His rage boiled near to the surface, yellow flecks appearing in his eyes. "I did NOT reject her, I saved her from an early death!" "SILENCE!" roared Rowan, the force of it rubbing her throat raw. Angel stared at her slack-jawed. Although not a warlock himself, Angel had handled numerous spells and incantations over the long years of his life; as a result, Angel was sensitive to the movements of great magiks. His expression- and lack of physical reaction- told Rowan that she now had proof Angel would listen to. "Slayers die young. You exchanged your years with her for mere months added to her life. You chose to allow her to die alone, apart from you. The Slayer is no longer a part of you, just as We intended all along. You are on a new path, Warrior. And this one," Rowan's arms were thrown out as if to display her own body, "was Sent to you to help. Do not spurn Our aid, for if you do- you spurn your own mission and destiny. The choice is yours." Rowan felt the Power slip from her body in a rushing wave, and folded in on herself in the aftermath of weakness. Rolling over slowly, Rowan closed her eyes and tried to readjust to the returned control of her body. By the time she felt sufficiently recovered to ask Angel, "Is that proof enough for you?" she was speaking to an empty room. 


	10. To Feel or Not to Feel, That Is The Ques...

Chapter Ten  
  
To Feel or Not to Feel, That Is The Question  
Rowan needed several long minutes before she felt able to try and find Angel. Great Powers were involved in this mess; but so were people, with emotions and needs of their own. Rowan felt very deeply that Angel needed to know the whole Buffy story to understand that, while not pre- ordained, the relationship was still very important.  
Dredging up the energy, Rowan staggered out her door and down the seemingly endless hall to look for Angel. By the time Rowan had made it three room's length, she was sweating and panting. Thankfully, she saw light peeking out beneath the door to the room she had visited earlier and assumed was his. Having slowly made it the rest of the distance, she pushed her way in.  
Angel was laying back on the bed, a framed picture of Buffy grasped tightly in one large hand and a thick, silver claddaugh ring in the other. "I can't accept this. I can't accept that we were never meant to be!"  
Rowan eased herself carefully onto the edge of the bed. "Angel," she called softly, trying to bring him out of his agitated state. "I watched you during your time in Hell, you know."  
Her voice registered on Angel's face, but he did not respond to her or look away from the picture frame. Rowan continued in the same steady voice. "Those glimpses of you, those were my first scryings after my Gram died. The tortures visited on you- the pain and degradation- but you never broke. You never cried out. You suffered in silence."  
Angel turned his stare to her. "You Saw me?"  
Rowan nodded, her head aching from the motion. "I Saw you. At first, I was glad to see you there. I blamed you for my Gram's death- she died because you couldn't keep it in your pants. I also blamed Buffy- I knew what the others Saw as your future, and she wasn't part of it. But the longer I Watched you, the more I wondered why you just took the punishment and never fought it. And then I realized, it was because you thought that you deserved it." Angel swallowed. "I still would deserve it." Rowan shook her head negatively, the ache inside it increasing. She needed to remember NOT to do that. "No. It was because Buffy and her friends had finally made you really understand the damage you had caused as Angelus, instead of just the body count."  
Angel blinked at her, but did not turn away, so she continued. "Buffy made you into the Warrior the Powers wished for far faster than the future they had planned for you would have done so. For that alone, Buffy is special."  
Angel's knuckles whitened with the pressure of holding on to the picture frame. Rowan was sure that the claddaugh ring was leaving angry welts on his palm as well. "Just because the Powers didn't mean for it to happen doesn't make the relationship less important to you."  
Angel blinked at her again. "You don't understand."  
Puzzled, she wondered where she had gotten it wrong. Rowan, holding out her arms, pleaded, "Then explain it to me." Angel was beyond distraught, and took a few moments to reply. Placing Buffy's picture carefully down on the nightstand, Angel sat up and folded one leg beneath the other. He leveled his eyes with hers before he spoke. His lower lip actually trembled as he spoke, the closest the stoic vampire ever came to actually crying. "Aside from the idea that Buffy and I won't be together after all, which I guess I'll get used to. If Buffy and I aren't soul mates, and I hurt this badly being away from her- I don't know that I could stand the chance of losing someone I love more than her."  
Rowan reached out for his hand, understanding flooding her. "Emotions are life. Would you rather be a killing machine like Angelus, who never feels anything but an emptiness, or be sometimes incredibly happy, sometimes in-pain Angel? You've been both."  
Angel stared at her for several long minutes before looking away and blinking rapidly. Rowan pressed her advantage. "Has it been so long since you were human that you can't remember the smile on your face every time you saw your little sister? The flutter in your chest when a pretty girl looked your way?"  
Angel clenched his jaw, the muscle twitching on one side. "No. I don't remember. I only remember feeling alive with Buffy."  
Rowan closed her eyes. The pain in his voice.it was heart breaking. "If you don't remember, you'll be lost. Think back on it. Skip all those years of pain and blood. Think back to Galway."  
Angel closed his eyes in response to her voice, concentrating on her words. He thought back to his human days, trying to push aside the knowledge of what was to come and revel in simple humanity. The days spent on horseback, wind whipping through his long ponytail as it came loose; the serving girl, dimpled and plump, peering through the inn's half-door as he dismounted after the ride; the firelight, shifting gold tones over her body as she posed for him to sketch. These were good memories, but how did they make him feel?  
  
If possible, Angel felt even sadder than usual- because he felt nothing at these memories. If he had felt anything at the time these events had occurred, his vampire years had robbed him of it. Opening his dark, sorrowful eyes to look at Rowan again, he shook his head. "I feel nothing."  
Rowan sighed inwardly. Angel was a hard nut to crack. "You did feel something, you've just forgotten it. Until you can remember that feeling, that isn't anything that I, the Powers, or an intended soul mate can do for you."  
Angel gripped her hands tightly. "Please, help me." Rowan sadly shook her head and shrugged. "I'm not sure how, Angel."  
"Please!" He was pitiful in his need.  
Rowan rose, despite the pain and energy it cost her. "How can I teach you to live life, Angel? I don't even have the hang of it yet." She left him, alone, and made her way slowly back to her own room, sinking into bed and quickly passing out in exhaustion. 


	11. The Morning After

Please review!!! This story was started over a year ago, and I am having trouble getting back into the groove. Comments would be most helpful (And make updates appear more quickly) !!!  
  
Disclaimer- The only character I own here is Rowan herself; the rest I borrow.  
  
Summary- This takes place before Cordelia becomes part demon and before Connor is born.  
  
Chapter 11  
  
The Morning After  
  
Warm, yellow light blazing down on her blanketed form woke Rowan up. The light confused her; she was sure that Wesley and Gunn should have been back hours before full day. Rolling over and pushing the blankets aside, Rowan tried to rise but fell back on the bed, the agony of intense ache wracking through her body. The Powers really didn't look out much for the comfort of their human vessels.  
Just as Rowan made a second attempt to rise, Cordelia popped her head into the room. "Good morning!" Pushing the door the rest of the way open, Cordelia help up a glass of water and two tiny pink pills. "Just what the witch-doctor ordered for supernaturally-caused headaches!"  
Cordelia waited while Rowan swallowed the pills and handed the glass back, then helped Rowan make her way to the bathroom. "There are fresh towels in there, and I'll get some clean clothes out of your bag for you. I'll leave them on the bed, and I'll see you downstairs."  
Rowan narrowed her eyes at Cordelia, suspicion darkening her tone. "Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?"  
Cordelia bit her lip, pausing a moment. "Well, Angel filled me in a little on your, uh. conversation last night. And let's just say, I know what it feels likes to have someone powerful in your brain with a message for Angel."  
Rowan rubbed her aching neck. "So, you trust me now?"  
Cordelia nodded slowly. "At least a little bit. Enough that I know you won't physically try to hurt Angel." A shadow crossed Cordelia's hazel orbs, and her lips thinned in a small frown. "Emotionally, well, that's a whole other story. But you aren't going to stake him or turn him evil, and I'll take what I can get, for now. The Powers sent you, apparently, and I trust Them." Pause. "Well, mostly."  
At that, Cordelia turned back to her self-appointed task, heading directly for Rowan's luggage and leaving Rowan to make her own way into the bathroom. Rowan showered slowly, still shaky, and pondered Cordelia's one- eighty. Just how much of last night- and Rowan's history- did the girl know? It took her much longer than usual to get herself ready, but the pills seemed to be helping. It was nearly ten o'clock by the time she finished dressing and carefully descended the lobby stairs, her hand tightly gripping the ornate banister the entire way down.  
Most of AI was in the lobby, lounging on various pieces of second- hand furniture and turning pages in old books. Rowan cleared her throat from the center of the room and watched everyone but Cordelia jump with surprise. "Good morning, everyone. Sorry I overslept."  
Wesley sprang up and practically ran to her side. "Oh, no bother at all. We got back with the herbs too late to start the spell this morning anyway. And you need your rest for this evening." Wesley blathered on in a very proper, courteous, English way until Cordelia interrupted him.  
"Hey! I get my head kicked around by the PTB on a regular basis, and you're never that nice to me!" Cordelia slammed her book shut and sat on the sofa with her arms crossed and her eyes angry.  
Gunn chuckled just loud enough for everyone to hear. Wesley's face grew red in the awkward, silent moment before Angel interrupted them with his arrival from the training room in the basement.  
Angel was shirtless, a sheen of sweat covering his upper body, and held a very sharp battle axe in his right hand. His tattoo was harshly dark on his pale skin as he walked through the lobby. "Good morning, everyone," he said, but his eyes stayed on Rowan.  
Cordelia responded for the group. "You can only say good morning if you've actually been to bed the night before, Angel."  
Angel frowned at her, and continued toward the kitchen wordlessly, dropping the axe on a coffee table. Cordelia's eyes followed his progress appreciatively. "Hey, bring me a Diet Coke on your way back out!" she called as she cracked her book open again.  
Rowan made her way to Cordelia's sofa and sat next to her fellow Seer. "He never went to bed last night?"  
Cordelia spoke as she continued to turn pages. "Nope. He's been down in the training room since dawn."  
Rowan pursed her lips. "Does he do that a lot?"  
Cordelia shook her head negatively without even looking up. "No. Usually only when he's brooding over something. Like a Buffy-brood."  
Rowan considered Cordelia's assessment for a moment. Angel had a right to brood, all things considered. "So, what are you all looking for?"  
Wesley perked right up, and opened his mouth to explain, but got cut off by Fred's quick response. "We're trying to find out more about these Fester demons. Festers look scarier than they actually are- everything we've found so far points to them as a peaceful race of demons, so it makes no sense that they should have attacked anyone."  
Wesley jumped in. "So we are trying to find out what could have changed their nature."  
Rowan looked over Cordelia's shoulder. "Or who. Maybe that necklace was doing a lot more than just casting a protection and projection spell."  
Wesley's eyes brightened and Fred sat up a little straighter. "So, what are you thinking?" Angel voice echoed in the hall as he returned from the kitchen. Handing Cordelia her can of soda, Angel leaned on the sofa's back and looked expectantly at Rowan.  
Rowan turned to look him directly in the face. His attitude toward her seemed guarded, but the request sounded genuine. "Well, demons are much like humans. They respond to many of the same stimuli- and threats. Maybe the demon's mate or children were threatened."  
  
Angel cocked his head to one side, never breaking eye contact with Rowan. "Still not in them to fight like that. According to these books, Festors are usually passive, even if you are trying to kill them. They won't fight back. Sort of the Amish of the demon world."  
Rowan took a deep breath and thought again. "Okay, then maybe some kind of demon-drug? Even the calmest human on PCP will respond something like that demon did to Wesley."  
Angel's turn to take a deep, though unneeded breath. "That's a thought." He was already rising and heading to his room as he called out orders to his fellow investigators. "Gunn, you and I need to talk to a few more people about this while the rest do some more research and Rowan prepares for her spell."  
Gunn shot up. He was never much for the research, anyway; he much preferring the ass-kicking side of his job. "I'll grab the weapons and meet you at the tunnel entrance."  
Rowan looked questioningly at Cordelia, who seemed to know that the look was addressed to her without ever raising her eyes. "He uses the sewers to get around during the day. No rest for the wicked around here."  
"The wicked?" Rowan questioned, one eyebrow arched.  
Cordelia sighed and looked up. "Okay, the reformed wicked. Or the very good, apparently, since I still have a stack of books to look through."  
Rowan took the hint, and slid off of the sofa. Angel was right in that she did have to prepare for the spell casting tonight. Although she had yet to explain how the spell worked to Angel, she now knew that he would go along with anything she asked him to do. A messenger from the Powers would never intentionally hurt any being without just cause. But she still needed to review the complicated spell and devise the proper ritual for its casting, as well as memorize the incantation itself so that there was no chance she would screw it up. Heading back towards the stairs, she hesitated next to Wesley.  
"Is there a room safe for magik use here, a workroom or something?" she asked, taking his attention back from his reading. It was in old Teskhan, she noted over his shoulder.  
Pushing his glasses up and nodding negatively, Wesley looked uncomfortably abashed, as if the lack of a magik workroom were something of which to be ashamed.  
Rowan thought he looked very... appealing. when he was uncomfortable. He certainly seemed, or so Gunn had thought earlier from his chuckle, eager to please her, and looked crushed at this perceived shortcoming. She tried to make him feel better, wondering as she did it why she bothered. "I figured there wasn't, but it never hurts to ask."  
"Although we use magic from time to time, none of us are spellcasters or witches." Wesley fidgeted with the Teskhan tome, randomly flipping pages back and forth. "Does the spell require an actual workroom?"  
Rowan nodded. "Well, to be safe, yes. A simple protection circle just isn't enough." Biting her lip, Rowan pondered the best solution. Knowing the kind of work that went on, she really hadn't considered that there wouldn't be a workroom here, despite her comment to Wesley. The only solution she could think of would delay her spell-casting another whole day, but there really didn't seem to be a way around it. "I'll need to create a temporary workspace, then."  
Wesley closed the book her had been perusing instantly, eager to help. "The basic supplies, I assume? Candles, sage, etc.?"  
Rowan smiled at him and started for the stairs. "Yes, the basics. I'll start looking for a suitable room while you-"  
"Actually," Wesley interrupted, "there is a suite on the fifth floor that I always thought would be perfect for magic use. It's very enclosed except for a balcony looking out towards the mountains, and quite peaceful."  
He absolutely beamed at her instant interest. "I'll just go get those supplies and be right back-" he called, already half-way into the next room. Rowan sat on the steps to wait for him. Cordelia, obviously listening to the exchange while she read, took that opportunity to make her way over to Rowan. Holding her place in the musty tome with her index finger, Cordy addressed Rowan in a low but serious tone. "Hey, witch-girl, take it easy on the geek. He's a puppy dog, and I wouldn't like to see him kicked."  
Rowan chuckled, a bit uncomfortable with Cordelia's implication. Right now, Wesley was a colleague. A smitten colleague, Rowan could tell, but a colleague none the less. Rowan didn't think she wanted anymore than that. "Don't worry, Cordy. I like dogs."  
At Cordy's "humph" noise, Rowan amended her words with a small smile. "I like dogs, but not too much."  
Cordy looked her over once more, top to bottom and back again, then went back to her sofa and pile of books. Wesley made his way over just then, and the two of them headed up on the elevator to the fifth floor. 


	12. So That's The Plan

Disclaimer- The only character I own here is Rowan herself; the rest I borrow. Summary- This takes place before Cordelia becomes part demon and before Connor is born.  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
So That's the Plan  
Once the elevator doors closed, silence settled. It continued after the doors swished open and as Rowan trailed behind Wesley to the suite he had in mind. Once inside, however, Rowan took charge. "Ever set up a workroom before, Wes?"  
Wesley, carefully sorting out the supplies from his arms into some kind of order on the nightstand, cleared his throat. "I have read rather extensively about it-"  
Rowan chuckled low in her throat, interrupting his clipped intonation. "So, no?"  
Wesley, lips moving but no sound escaping for several minutes, finally replied. "No."  
Rowan turned, picking up a stack of white candles from Wesley's pile of supplies and began placing them around the perimeter of the room. "Don't look so crestfallen! I won't hold it against you."  
Wesley looked the tiniest bit relieved. "I still think I can be of some help."  
Rowan smiled widely and warmly at him. He may not be an ace magic user, but he seemed willing to learn. "Good. I do have something you can do- which is very important, even if it doesn't sound like it."  
Again, the crestfallen look. But Wesley was smart; he knew what to do without even being asked. "I'll make sure you aren't interrupted." He headed towards the door. "I'll be in the hall."  
"Thanks! That really is the most important part of this spell. The room has to know only me, and I have to be completely centered on setting up the barriers." Rowan settled into the middle of the room, folding her legs into a comfortable sitting position. The small brazier with sandalwood was at her side. She followed Wesley's progress with her eyes, turning herself towards the open terrace and the full sunlight as soon as the door closed behind him. Clearing her mind of all thoughts, Rowan spoke a single word, incindiare, and the candlewicks flared to life with pure, clean flames. After pausing a moment, she began the incantation, drawing power to herself.  
"To the guardians of the four corners, I pledge myself.  
To aid the side of the light, and all its warriors,  
I pledge myself and those powers granted to me." Here, she drew out a pouch of pungent herbs and tossed a pinch to each corner of the room.  
"To the east, to the west, to the north and to the south,  
From the heavens to the bowels of the earth, all encompassing,  
Hear me, Guardians, and grant protection and safe passage." Rowan dumped the rest of the herb pouch into the brazier, causing the flame to leap in the air and turn a deep purple. Light, chartreuse smoke began to billow out from the burning incense and wrap itself around her in long- fingered tendrils.  
"Keep my feet on the path you have chosen for me,  
Keep my magiks free from darkness.  
Consecrate this holy space for the work you wish,  
And to protect those who do that work with me." The smoke began to expand and thicken, filling the room with the smell of old magik. Grasping a small, ceremonial dagger by its ornately sculpted hilt, she intoned the next few lines of the blessing:  
"I offer myself, my blood, and my brethren-" At this point, Rowan drew the dagger across her palm, allowing three drops of blood to fall on the burning incense before wrapping her hand with a cloth and continuing.  
"-and this sacred space to you." A fresh breeze seemed to whip through the room, clearing the smoke and extinguishing the carefully placed candles.  
Rowan inhaled slowly and deeply, savoring the peacefulness that had now taken over. The room was blessed.  
After a moment of peace, Rowan called out. "Wesley, you can come back in."  
The door cracked slightly, and Wesley peered through the space. "All done then?"  
Rowan stretched the muscles in her neck slowly, preparing to rise. "Yes, all done."  
Wesley quickly crossed the distance from the door to Rowan, and held out a hand in aid. She grasped it and pulled herself upright. "Now I need something to eat, and some time to practice the incantation for tonight." Wesley held the door open for Rowan to pass through. "I take it that the spell is somewhat complicated?" Rowan nodded in agreement. "Yes. It's in several different languages. My Gram took the magik from wherever she could find it to construct the spell, and she didn't want to weaken the strength by translating the words."  
"Fascinating!' Wesley exclaimed as he followed her over the threshold. He continued down the hall while Rowan turned to face the doorway again. She spread her hands, and spoke another word of Power. The space within the door frame glowed a deep sapphire for just a few seconds before blanking out. Rowan caught up with Wesley before he even realized she wasn't in-step with him.  
Wesley's curiosity, building ever since Rowan had announced that she had a spell that could help, finally became too much to bear. "Just what does this spell do, that requires so many different types of magik?"  
Rowan considered what AI's reaction to the spell might be, if she really explained just what would happen. Upon reflection, she decided that Wesley and the others deserved to know the type of risks involved. "Well, I am going to de-vampify Angel by playing with the soul-demon link."  
Wesley stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her. "How exactly are you going to play with that link?" he asked, his voice raising in pitch and finally cracking on 'link.'"  
Rowan smiled at him, trying to project confidence and a sense that the spell wasn't really anything out of her normal magik working. "Momentarily disrupt it, like a satellite dish during a thunderstorm."  
Wesley paled and a faint line of sweat appeared at his hairline. "Disrupt it HOW?!?" He shook his head vigorously. "Now, I have not personally met Angelus, but I don't think that he will cooperate with you!"  
Rowan almost laughed at his comically horrified expression, but held it in with some effort. The spell was, actually, slightly dangerous. She had just chosen to ignore the risks. The opportunity to help Angel- and gain his personal trust, not have it forced by the PTB- made the risks less important to her. "Don't worry, Wesley. Angelus will not be appearing. In fact, he will temporarily be imprisoned."  
Wesley looked excited. "That's what the Orb is for!"  
"Yes." Rowan agreed. "How long can you keep A-a-ngelus imprisoned?" Wesley's eyes were bright with the obvious possibilities. Rowan considered explaining more truthfully what would happen with the spell, but, as Wesley hadn't asked about any of the possible complications, kept those to her self. She didn't want anyone to worry more than was absolutely necessary. "Not for very long."  
Breaking the now somber mood that had settled on Wesley's face, Rowan started down the hallway again. "So, Wes, care to help me with the pronunciation of some ancient K'Tharlian? I'm a little rusty on." 


	13. The Devil Is In The Details

Disclaimer- The only character I own here is Rowan herself; the rest I borrow.  
  
Summary- This takes place before Cordelia becomes part demon and before Connor is born.  
  
Chapter Thirteen  
  
The Devil Is In The Details  
A few hours later, thanks to Wesley's attentive help and a call to a local pizza place, Rowan was contently full and in her workroom practicing the incantation for her Gram's spell. A knock on the door, muffled by the magik barriers, caused her to stumble on a difficult pronunciation. Cursing under her breath and her tone reflecting annoyance, she asked who it was without rising.  
"Angel." Angel's substantial form filled the doorway, duster billowing and arms crossed. "That Sight of yours is pretty damn accurate, even if you don't realize that you're using it. After twenty bucks, and a few minutes of pummeling, Merle spilled about some serious drugs catered to demon physiology that have recently turned up." Shifting position to lean against the frame, Angle continued. "The real question isn't what drugs are out there. It's- what is Wolfram and Hart doing involved with such penny- ante shit like drug running? Apocalypse is really more their style."  
Rowan mentally multi-tasked, continuing to run through the spell in the back of her mind, even as she began a conversation with Angel. It was one of the talents that made her an excellent witch. Ignoring his comments about Wolfram and Hart, she went straight to the topic of the night's magik. "I'm glad your back. We both have preparations we need to make for this spell."  
Angel nodded, and licked his bottom lip. "Tell me what I need to do."  
"I wrote directions down for you and got the things you'd need together. They're here on the nightstand. Read them and then I'll go over them with you." Rowan closed her eyes and returned to her incantation again, allowing Angel time to read the notes through.  
Angel cleared his throat, still leaning on the doorframe. "I'd love to, but. Can I come in?"  
Rowan mentally cringed. "I forgot the barriers would require an invitation. Sorry!" she apologized, opening her eyes and turning her full attention back on him. Rising with a flourish of her arms, Rowan extended the invitation. "Come in, Angel."  
Angel crossed the threshold quickly and picked up his directions. Reading them over, he stated, "These seem pretty normal for a ritual cleansing."  
"That's not all, Angel." Rowan started, crossing her arms and determination dark in her eyes.  
Angel's response was to stare back at her with dead eyes. Their final interaction last night, and its implied ramifications, hung heavy in the air between them. Rowan broke the silent staring contest. "There's more to this spell than just a physical cleansing."  
Angel rolled his eyes. "I don't think I want to have this conversation right now," he mumbled and turned towards the door.  
Rowan put her hand on his arm and forcibly slowed his progress down. "Oh, no, mister. We need to talk, NOW. I won't do this spell unless we clear the air."  
Angel turned back to face her with a half-smile, but it never made it to his eyes. "But there's nothing we need to talk about."  
Rowan slipped easily to the floor and unsuccessfully tried to pull him down beside her. "Bullshit."  
Angel gave up the attempt at smiling. "There's no way to settle it. You said so yourself. I need figure out if I want to feel or if I want to shut myself off from the glorious pleasures of human contact." He shoved his hands, written directions and all, into the pockets of his stylish black trousers.  
Rowan grew concerned at his flippant tone. "You need to be serious. This spell requires soul-to-soul contact, Angel. I need to know that you are settled before we do this."  
Angel frowned, creases deepening at the corners of his mouth. He pulled the directions back out to look them over again. "What do you mean, soul-to-soul contact?"  
"It's a lot like handing off a football." Rowan sighed when the light bulb failed to go off over Angel's head. He needed more of an explanation. "The spell I am using is one that my Grandmother had played around with years before my mother was turned; it was originally meant to help you keep your soul but undo the Romani curse. Gram amended it and used it as a basis for my mother's Restoration spell." Rowan watched the concern flicker across Angel's dark eyes. "We are going to link souls, so that you can get into Wolfram and Hart without them realizing that you are there. So that you won't set off the vampire alarms."  
Angel rubbed his thumb back and forth over the purification directions in his right hand as he considered her plan, seemingly mesmerized by the movement of his digits. "How exactly is this going to work? My physical body is what sets the alarms off. How can your soul make me a non-vampire?"  
"No, it is not the physical body that sets the alarms off." Rowan shifted her position, stretching leg muscles that ached from too much time sitting on the floor over the course of the day. "It's the presence of the demon within you."  
"And just how are you going to remove the demon inside of me?" Angel asked, curiosity evident in his tone. "I'm going to use several different methods combined, but essentially it's going to be what you did with Ephygon." "What?!" Alarm rang loudly in Angel's voice. "Trap my demon in your body?"  
She had realized that this could be the most difficult part of the whole plan, to convince Angel to allow her to place her self in a position of risk in order to help him. But she still had not been able to fathom his exact response. "Not exactly. Your soul has kept the demon bound; you will pass the demon over to my soul. My force of will- not my physical self- will trap your demon in an Orb of Thesalla. I will function as a living link between you and the Orb. You will have access to the physical strength of the demon when- if- you need it, through me. If you don't need access, I will simply function like a live electrified fence, keeping the demon under control until I return it to you."  
"You can remove the demon and contain it? For how long?" Angel's interest in the spell waged war with his worry.  
Rowan smiled crookedly. "Well, I'm a damn fine witch, but even I can't hold the demon back indefinitely. The spell's never been done before, so I'm not sure exactly how long it will be."  
Angel inhaled unnecessarily. "And what will happen to you if you have to contain it for too long?"  
Rowan was a little worried about this her self, but showed none of her inner turmoil. She simply trusted that her Gram would never construct a faulty spell. "The demon will take me over. I won't be a true vampire- no need for the blood, and I won't burst into flames in sun- but I WILL be a pretty nasty person until someone else can perform the rest of the spell and return Angelus to you."  
"But it would be reversible if that happened?" Angel pushed for more detail.  
Rowan tiredly nodded, massaging her still-sore leg. "Yes, it would be reversible- at least for me. Our blood relation gives me more protection against the demon than someone else would have."  
Angel considered for a minute. "What would happen to you if I died?"  
Rowan squirmed uncomfortably and avoiding looking directly at him. "Let's just say, don't die."  
Angel, hand cradling her chin, forced her to face him. Looking closely at her, he studied her face for a few moments before speaking. His voice was level, and lower in tone than usual. Rowan felt a compulsion to answer his next question honestly. "Let's just say I do. What happens to you?"  
Rowan broke his gaze with some effort and stared at the flame of a lit candle just beyond Angel's shoulder. "Um, it won't be pretty."  
Angel grasped her chin and pulled her eyes back to his again. "Just how 'not pretty' are we talking?"  
Rowan swallowed nervously, trying to cover her emotion with some gallows humor. "Well, I'm not positive, but I think I'll probably go insane and become a serial killer. But that's only until the police catch me and execute me."  
Angel looked at her questioningly. "If I die, there's no way for you to get rid of the demon?"  
Rowan grimaced. "No."  
Angel shook his head negatively. "I can't put you at risk like that."  
Rowan snorted. "You don't get to make decisions like that for me. I am an adult witch who makes her own decisions."  
Angel shook his head again. "This isn't important enough to justify such a big risk. There are other ways to get information."  
It was Rowan's turn to shake her head. "I Know that this is important to do as soon as possible. I don't know why for sure- the demon-drugs may only be a small part of a much bigger disaster planned by Wolfram and Hart. But I have a feeling that we have to do this." Angel just had to listen to her Sight. "Why else did the Powers That Be tell you to trust me?"  
Angel was not at all happy, but even he realized that he was outnumbered, metaphorically speaking. "What is so damn important in that building that the PTB feel I have to get in there?"  
Rowan looked straight at him. "That's the part that scares me."  
Angel agreed. "I'll go do a little more.research.before the time to start the ritual. See if I can get an idea."  
Rowan placed her hand on his arm as he began to rise. "Angel- I still need to know, before the ritual."  
Angel shook his head negatively and continued up and out of the room. "I'll let you know later. I want to go kill something right now."  
Rowan relaxed slightly, now that the initial confrontation with Angel over. But tension over the inevitable, second confrontation remained. Rowan wondered when Angel would start to think through the ramifications of soul- to-soul contact. The elusive vampire, so distant from everybody, would have to open up to her in a way he never had with anyone before- including Buffy. 


End file.
